


Ladylike Behaviour

by orphan_account



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: Cornwall, F/M, Fluff, Historical, Love/Hate, Rivalry, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 18:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Miss Olivia Knapp does not behave like most young ladies of position in 1780s Cornwall. She would rather be out and about and engage herself in politics than sit at home cross-stitiching. However she often is frustrated by men who seek to criticise her behaviour - the latest among them being a certain Captain Poldark. She can do no right in his eyes and loathes his supercilious, interfering nature. So why does all Truro seem to be in love with him?
Relationships: Ross Poldark/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. An Incident

**Author's Note:**

> This was written last year as a birthday present for a friend and it is the first fanfic I ever wrote and I have since recycled a lot of the ideas! Because it was about my friend I wanted it to be a steamy love story but I physically could not bring myself to write any smut, so you will have to imagine it yourselves ;)

The assembled crowd was starting to become restless as the foreman of the warehouse finally stepped out to address them. Olivia was standing towards the back but in the middle of the thoroughfare, blocking the way shoulder to shoulder with the agitated miners. She was not of such stock herself, but felt the plight of their poverty empathetically and was here to add her voice to their cause. The workers were here to finally get some grain. the price had soared too high that summer of 1786 and now the situation was at breaking point. They were determined to get their supplies today - by any means necessary.  
“The Members of the Board have concluded,” the deep Cornish drawl from the tall man facing the crowd cut across the disgruntled whispers, “the price cannot be altered. 50 shillings a bushel, and not a penny less.”  
The last words were lost under shouts from the crowd. Olivia felt uneasy: 50 shillings for a bag of grain was hardly affordable for the most frugal of miners with the smallest of families. However most of these workers here today had been without employment for months and were on the brink of starvation.  
They were shouting about the unfairness of the situation when one youth at the front piped up, “Since that’s miles too much for any of us to afford, why don’t ye stick yer hand in yer own pocket to purchase it for us? Sure as hell that’s the only way ye’ll be paid that today!”  
There were nods and murmurs of agreement. The foreman of the warehouse began to look worried and converse with his colleagues who had now also come out of the warehouse to join him. Another voice called out, “Aye, and get yer get your fancy friends to chip in and all!”  
Olivia felt the mood had turned sour. These men were clearly not prepared to pay what they could not afford and the mood was leaning towards a riot. She felt she had to get away before words turned to blows and the anger was expressed in punches. She turned to walk away and was jostling out of the crowd, heading for the back through the people who had stood behind her. That was her mistake. Although from behind she looked like any other miner’s wife, when she turned around the front a well-tailored muslin dress of dove grey and cream-coloured kid gloves could be glimpsed under her drab hooded cloak by the men behind her.  
Her attire had given her away as a lady of some wealth. Immediately a man next to her said, “This lady’ll buy us our vittles, won’t ye, my love?” Hands were reaching towards her and dense group pressing in on all sides. But Olivia was not one to take this sort of thing lying down.  
“Do you really believe this is how you will win your cause? I am on your side! Let me through and I will fight your case among my peers who control your grain!” But they weren’t listening. Greedy hands had pulled off her cloak and exposed her jewels and a small purse hanging from her belt.  
Olivia tried to appear calm and determined as she usually was but inside, for the first time in her adult life, she felt the bite of true fear. Near the warehouse, the realisation that negotiation had failed was sweeping through the men on both sides, both the rich and the hungry. As the head of the board was trying to appease the mob in his mellow Cornish voice, his colleagues turned back to the warehouse to secure their wares. The miners understood this and pelted forward into the warehouse first and after a struggle started throwing out the sacks of grain to be taken away by whoever could grab them first. The men were looting, and were prepared to fight anyone that got in their way. The struggle soon became bloody as the foreman was knocked down by a stout woman with a turnip.  
Olivia wanted to leave but the men were still barring her way, the wave of aggression inciting them to steal whatever they could get their hands on. Olivia was not worried about her money or her dignity (heaven knew she had little enough of both) but could not come to terms with violence and feared for her personal safety. Suddenly, a firm hand latched onto her hip as she tried to fight her way out. She strained to shake off her assailant but the grip would not lessen. Fearing the worst, turned to face him and found herself looking into a pair of deep brown eyes under a brow furrowed with concern. Keeping his arm around her, he declared, “Now, for the last time of asking, step aside, as my wife is with child!”  
Olivia had very little sense of what was going on. Did he mean her? Who was this man? But these questions did not occupy her for long. The strong man guided her out of the swarm of people to the pavement and continued walking, taking three or four corners and not slackening his pace until he was sure they were safe. The man finally let go of her waist, whereupon, overcome with a punch of exhaustion, excitement and fear, Miss Olivia Knapp promptly fainted.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have literally no idea about grain prices or Cornish history, and it has been too long since I read the books for me to remember. I hope I guessed OK - sorry this is not 100% historically accu-rat


	2. An Encounter

She came around to a vision of a smoky, dimly lit, wood-panelled interior and to the pungent smell of fragrant smelling salts, in the arms of the stranger that saved her. For a moment, Olivia relaxed into his firm hold, enjoying the heady sensation of his muscled arms against her skin before the recollection of the recent events swum back into her memory. Blinking and breathing rapidly, she got to her feet and out of his arms.  
“Are you sure you’re alright? Not too dizzy?” His voice was as deep as the brown of his eyes and of roguishly long curly hair.  
“Perfectly well, thank you.” Shrugging off his grip, Olivia smoothed down her dress, wobbling only slightly and taking in the rest of the scene. They were in a public house, probably, she felt, in the wrong end of Truro, but thankfully nobody seemed to be taking any notice of them.  
“Would you care to take some refreshment, Miss…?”  
“Knapp,” she completed for him. She didn’t want to gratify this man’s ego any longer than she had to, but she felt she owed him this courtesy. “Thank you, that would be most kind.”  
“Please, take a seat.” He showed her to a table in the bay window and soon returned with two glasses of port. She thanked him and took a grateful sip.  
“You have been very kind to me, sir, but you ought to know that I wasn’t in need any of your help. I was perfectly capable of managing the situation myself.” Olivia refused to meet the eyes of the man that were gazing at her with curiosity. She felt embarrassed and silly, but mostly indignant that this stranger had come to her rescue when she really was no need of rescue at all.   
“If you say so. It became violent after we left.”   
“How fortunate it was, then, that I had a rescuer.” Olivia let a little sarcasm creep into her tone, wanting to end this whole incident sooner rather than later. She felt annoyed that she should be indebted to this man seated across from her, he who was clearly too accustomed to swooning ladies. He was, though, disarmingly charming, which made her dislike him even more.   
“One might ask what business such a lady as yourself had amongst that rabble at that wrong time. Surely you realised that those people weren’t shopping for the same things as yourself?” The sarcasm was spreading.  
“Actually, I was there to follow the developments in this grain situation and to see if I couldn’t help the situation myself.” She met his eyes with a matter of fact glare.  
“Oh, really. And how would you have achieved that?” He still wore a laughing smirk.  
“I believe that reasoned discussion can often have bigger consequences than shouts and blows.”  
“That’s certainly true. But putting yourself in the middle of a hungry, impoverished crowd? You were placing yourself in danger and, had anything untoward happened to you, would have put the case of your miners in far worse standing if they could have been accused of assaulting a lady.”  
Olivia felt as if she was being lectured to and did not like it one bit. “But had you not so gallantly charged in and saved me, I should have resolved the situation myself and proved myself an asset to their cause rather than a hindrance!”  
“How can you assure me of that? Do you make a habit of championing the poor? Surely there must be less dangerous pastimes for a woman of your age - I’ve heard cross stitch is endlessly diverting.”  
Now she was being patronised. She felt her dislike of this man turn to hate, which wasn’t helped by the attraction she was feeling. “I happen to think my time would be better spent trying to improve people’s lives rather than frittering away my youth with accomplishments to make myself more marriageable. It only seems a shame that you, a man, and not a poor one I hazard to guess, should be condemning me for attempting what you with your biologically elevated position in society could change more easily, should you only put your mind to it.” She drank the last of her port, readying herself to leave and put this whole unpleasant incident behind her.  
“I feel like you have judged me too quickly, Miss Knapp, and perhaps so have I also judged you too soon.” He left the argument behind and said kindly, “If you’re not feeling well, please don’t hasten. You ware welcome to stay in a room here, at my expense if you wish, or borrow my horse to get back home should you need.”  
Olivia felt wrong-footed by this man’s generosity but didn’t want to make herself even more indebted to him than she already was. She thanked him one last time for his kindness and quickly left, striding out into the late afternoon sunshine. It was only when she had found her way home, to a cosy old-fashioned townhouse on the other side of the town, that she realised that she hadn’t discovered his name. But then, it was no matter. Olivia intended never to meet him again.  
Unfortunately for Olivia, Fate had her own plans. 


	3. An Argument

Most days, Olivia liked to spend the morning in academic pursuits, completing arithmetic exercises set by her father or reading improving books. In the afternoon she often took trips into town, for walks or to run errands. Today, however, she was going to the courtroom to hear the cases against some of the men that were arrested at the protest a few days ago, but of course, that’s not what she told her parents. She didn’t know much about politics, but she wanted to learn so that she might one day help people if she could. Though, being a young single girl, she doubted if she could affect real change. But then again, I am a young single girl, she thought, shuddering. The thought of serving the pleasure of men like Reverend Halse made her stomach turn.  
The hall was packed with people when she had arrived, so she had to find a place to sit in the gallery. Proceedings had begun in the morning, and they had been working through the accused men all day. Olivia had shuffled onto the end of a bench during the case of one Ned Treglawne and now, three men down and three maximum sentences passed mercilessly, she was losing patience. The cases were barely heard, and as there was no-one to offer any defence, she watched as two hard working, half-starved men were committed to fester for three years in prison, a spell which would surely kill them, and one man was sentenced to hang on the basis that he had stolen grain. The case against Elijah Massey, charged with theft and assault, was drawing to a close, and Olivia stood up to leave, unable to bear hearing the verdict of this man, barely nineteen years old, who stood silent and wide-eyed with fear at the front of the room.   
“If there is nothing more to be heard, we shall move on to sentencing,” droned the judge as Olivia headed for the stairs. But she stopped when she heard a voice she recognised but couldn’t quite place call out.  
“If I may beg the indulgence of the court, I should like to present a case in the defence of this man.” There were murmurings and gasps from the people assembled, and many gentry who were falling asleep were shaken awake by their partners.  
“Ah, Captain Poldark. Do you have any defence to offer in this man’s defence this time?” The judge’s tone was a sarcastic drawl, suggesting to Olivia that this was not the first time this man had stood up as a defence in court. She stood where she was, unable to see but listening to what was going on.  
“Your honour, I wish to testify to this man’s character. I have known this man for some years and-”  
“Thank you sir,” calls the judge, cutting across him. “I’m sure this man is irreplaceable. But we’ll have none of your heartening speeches today. This man must be made an example of. Do not stand in the way of justice, or I have a mind to charge you with contempt of court.”   
“This is evil! This man - all these men today - and their families, are starving! You cannot-” The crowd were getting restless, stirred up by the truth of this man’s words.   
“This is your last warning, Poldark. This is your final opportunity to leave here as a free man.” Olivia heard the sound of thundering footsteps making their way out of the hall over the whispering of the quiet crowd. The main door creaked opened and just before it closed again, the judge added, “I wouldn’t worry, Poldark. This man won’t be hungry for very much longer.”  
Olivia did not want to hear this man be sentenced to hang, especially not after someone had tried to save him. She hurried down the stairs into the entrance hall, still full with people milling about, many glancing up to look at her. Suddenly feeling oppressed by the atmosphere, she pushed her way through to the door and out onto the street, gulping down the fresh air with her hands on her hips, her mind whirling with anger at the injustice and the frustration of being unable to do anything about it.  
“My darling!” She heard that same familiar voice call behind her, and the door closing after the speaker as he too came outside. It was only when the voice added, “Miss Knapp, how do you do?” that she turned to see who it was.  
As she recognised Captain Poldark as the man who had rescued her on the day of the riot, she felt as if coals were being heaped onto her fiery anger. Had he just called her darling?  
“Or should I say, Mrs Poldark. You’ll remember, most of the men in that room are under the impression that you and I are married.” He looked through the window of the room they had just left, then added with a smile, “How goes the pregnancy, by the way?”  
Olivia realised what he meant, remembering how he had first addressed her the other day.  
“Miss Knapp suits me, thank you, sir,” she said curtly, keeping a few yards away from him. Then, remembering her manners, added, “How fortunate that we meet somewhat more properly this time. Though I hardly would have thought to see you here.”  
Captain Poldark looked bemused. “Why would that be?”  
Olivia turned away slightly. “Well, I was under the impression you had little or no time for those less fortunate than yourself.”  
“And whatever gave you that idea?” asked Poldark.  
Olivia retorted, “Someone who knows better than I told me I ought not to try championing the poor.”  
As their conversation in the public house swum back into his mind, he nodded, and said, “Look. The injustice in this county is a plague which is growing ever more deadly. I’m in a precarious position, but I do want to help some people if I can. But clearly, I cannot.” He sighed in frustration and gestures to the building they have just left.  
“Why did they so vehemently refuse you to speak?” Olivia asked more gently.  
“Last time I was in court, I tried to speak in defence of the character of a young man caught poaching… he was starving, unwell and his wife was due with their first child.” Poldark looked directly into Olivia’s face. “I helped nothing, and some months later I tried to save him from his fate. But he died, in my arms.”  
Olivia has to look away, trying not to betray how affected she was by the tale, or his solemn good looks. “How terrible.”  
He sighed. “As much as one may desire to, one cannot be a champion. It is a difficult path to tread: one must try to act justly while not earning disfavour and disrepute, nor losing all influence among the people that really hold the power.”  
Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Such a path is even more difficult when one is forever being rescued and being told to stay at home practicing cross stitch!”  
Poldark threw his hands up in disbelief, and Olivia felt that he would have laughed, were he not so frustrated. “Your intent was laudable, only your method was not!”  
“And you think that you acted better today, earning the contempt of the judge for you and your defendant in court?” She saw she had spoken out of turn when he dropped his gaze to his shoes. There was a beat of silence, marked by a well-dressed couple leaving the courtroom, laughing together.  
Olivia came closer to Captain Poldark and said in a soft tone, “I’m sorry, sir. But you must see, I loathe being idle when the plight of the Cornishman is so dire.”  
“I understand, Miss Knapp. But, I’m sorry to say, this is not some brief skirmish. This is a slow, excruciating battle of attrition, and you and I are caught in the middle.” He rested a compassionate hand on her shoulder. Neither of them felt this as impropriety, but rather as a moment of understanding between them.  
He smiled gently. “Let’s leave this talk.” Dropping his hand, the bright light flickered back into the man’s face. “I should like to get to know you a little better - that is, if you ever do anything apart from argue.” Olivia was about to rebut that statement before she realised she would be walking right into the trap. He continued, asking, “Would you like to accompany me to the Red Lion across the way?”  
Olivia looked up, once again acknowledging his gorgeous face, and noticing the scar on his left side which only added to his intrigue. She couldn’t make out this man, who was now all wit and smiles, and now people’s champion; now gentle, now fiery, and all the while powerfully churning her emotions. She didn’t have anywhere to be but thought it best not to spend much longer in this man’s disarming presence. “Sadly, I must away.”   
The questioning look he gave in reply left her scrabbling for an excuse. Then a thought came to her and she said with an innocent smile, “I have a new cross stitch pattern which simply won’t wait any longer.” And before he could bid her farewell, she skipped over the road and walked away, vowing that she would never see this man again.


	4. An Evening Out

Olivia had been looking forward to George Warleggan’s ball for months now and grew even more excited as the date approached: it would be a chance for her to relax and escape the tumult of the previous week. Her brushes with Captain Poldark had left her knotted up with anger and frustration, but she had found herself thinking of him often, probably too often, afterwards. At least she could rely on him to be absent this evening, for even she had heard of the rivalry between Poldark and Warleggan.  
It was to be an evening of leisure. Olivia was dressed in a new gown of deep teal-blue taffeta which draped tantalisingly low over her shoulders and chest, and the effect was magnified by her tightest corset. Her hair had been wound into a low twist and tied there with a ribbon matching her dress. She looked astounding, and she knew it.  
She was to be escorted to the ball by her father but hoped to spend most of her time with the dashing doctor Dwight Enys who had been doing so much good among the poor of south Cornwall yet was still relied upon by the well-to-do of society in and around the town. They had met when he was called to tend to her sprained ankle sustained while playing tennis (Olivia did not much care for acting ladylike). Since then, they had often come across one another in the town and now she hoped their relations would soon pass beyond friendship. She had reason to wish for rapidity - her father had applied for a headmaster’s position in a school in the Cotswolds and any relationship not firmly assured would surely break under the strain of such a distance. Moreover, Olivia did not hold much hope for the quality of beaux in Gloucestershire.  
Once they had arrived and shed their coats, and had been offered a glass of punch which Olivia readily accepted, she and her father made her rounds about the large ballroom greeting friends and making new acquaintances. She was welcomed by Mr Warleggan who was clearly impressed by her appearance, and she thought of the prospect of becoming Mrs Warleggan, the wife of the richest and baddest man in town. The idea did not displease her. But before she could dwell too long in this fantasy, she spotted Dr Enys across the room and excused herself to talk to him.  
“Dr Enys, how charmed I am to see you here! I hope you will not begrudge me the honour of the first dance. You see, you have made my ankle so much better that I am very keen to test it out tonight.” Olivia knew what she wanted and did not waste time.  
Dwight’s eyes lit up at the appearance of this beautiful and vivacious young woman. “But of course,” he said, “I would be keen to put it through its paces. May I fetch you a glass of port?”  
Olivia had drunk her punch by now and was starting to feel slightly tipsy. She knew well she couldn’t really hold her drink but she felt she needed the flirtiness and courage a few more glasses would bring. They walked over to the refreshment table together, Mr Enys considerately asking after her family.  
She was telling him, “Grace has returned to her school in Exeter and by all accounts is enjoying her final year. Mother is ailing rather but still runs the household with some vigour, and Father is plodding on teaching the boys at the school. It does wear him out but he carries on yet - I think he likes the idea that he is improving their lives through education.” She neglected to tell him about their possible move north.   
Dwight nodded. “Ah yes - I’ve often thought that education is the greatest gift one can bestow. It can put more food on the table than more material presents over the course of a man’s life.” He handed her a glass of ruby port.   
“I agree, doctor. It is however a great sadness that those who would most benefit from an education and the jobs it could bring are precisely those who are unable to afford it - simply because their parents are too poor to spare them working down the mine.”  
“Exactly. A good friend of mine, however, is trying to change things for some of his tenants. I myself spend some time every week at his mine trying to teach the children of his employees some basic literacy.“  
Olivia was pleasantly astonished by this revelation. “What a philanthropic gesture! Tell me, whose mine is that? I should gladly be pleased to volunteer some time to help in this effort.”  
Dr Enys chuckled pleasantly. “Miss Knapp, you are most kind, but it is tough work and the children savage and rude. It would be unsuitable for you.”  
“Why? Because my sex makes me too delicate? If I am able to be governess to two spoilt children, I would be more than capable of teaching children who want my help more, and I would be more willing to give such help.”   
“I’m sure you could, and very capably.” Olivia smiled at the compliment. “But for now, let me introduce you to the man of whom I speak.” Dr Enys had glimpsed the subject of his conversation from across the room and began leading the way over to him. Olivia was trying to guess who it might be, but could not fathom it as they were now approaching a small group of people, with a tall man with a scar down his left cheek closest to them. Olivia recognised the form of Captain Poldark and stomach lurched as hoped she would not have to speak to him for too long. “He is surely the finest man in Cornwall, though he would never agree with me! I could safely say he has more thought for the misfortunate and impoverished than he has for himself. Let me introduce you to Captain Ross Poldark. Captain Poldark - Miss Olivia Knapp.”  
Olivia quickly bowed her head to hide the flush that had come into her cheeks. Was this the man Dr Enys values so highly? She knew she had misjudged him when he rescued her on the day of the riot, and ever since then she had been feeling foolish. The more she learned of this man, the more his character was polished. He clearly held similar values and views as she did. These realisations and a pang of shame passed through her mind momentarily. When she looked up, she involuntarily met his magnetic gaze and his eyes flashed humorously. He may be a good man, she thought angrily, but he still acts like a rogue. I was hoping to have a lovely evening before he arrived.  
“Miss Knapp and I have actually already met. I had the good fortune to assist her two weeks ago as she was shopping in Truro.” Olivia mentally thanked him for not mentioning the true circumstances in which they met.  
“How fortunate!” Dr Enys exclaimed.   
“Indeed. She was deliberating over some new threads for cross-stitching. I couldn’t help overhearing and helped her out of her difficult decision.” He met Olivia’s eyes again with a little smile, who in return furrowed her brow in confusion.  
Dr Enys introduced her to the rest of the group: Ross’s cousin, Mr Francis Poldark, his wife Elizabeth, and his sister Verity, who greeted her before going over to an old school friend she had spied.  
Olivia began, “How surprising to see you here, Captain. I had been given to understand that you and our host tonight were allergic to each other’s company.”  
Poldark chuckled. “How delicately put. I must confess it is true, but I thought I would risk it tonight as a guest of Verity. Besides, I was in the mood for charming money from my wealthy neighbours’ pockets.”  
“Why would that be? Surely you have enough, running two large mines.” Olivia retorted.  
“You would think so. But ore runs out eventually, and I have plans to reopen another mine, which would help get many in my area back into gainful employment. But the shafts are waterlogged and collapsing - to repair them, I shall need capital. Scratch the surface, Miss Knapp, and you will find the gilt comes off very easily”  
“What a terrific plan, Ross.” Dr Enys answered, “and best of luck to you. But tonight is surely for pleasure, not business!”  
“But of course. Now, I’m sure you’re spoken for in the first dance, Miss Knapp, but might I claim the honour of the second with you?” Olivia nodded demurely, perhaps slightly betraying her reluctance.  
“If her ankle gets the all clear from her doctor!” Dr Enys laughed and Olivia explained, “I had the good fortune of the doctor’s treatment when I sprained my ankle a few weeks ago.”  
“That sounds painful. And how did you sustain that injury?” Ross asked quizzically.  
Olivia waved her hand and said flippantly, “Oh, cross-stitching.”   
Ross nodded. “Of course. Understandable.”   
Dr Enys and Elizabeth looked at him, confused. But as the band finished tuning up and announced the first dance, he turned to her and asked, “Shall we?” and offered her his hand.  
He led Olivia away to the dance, and Mr Warleggan came to take Elizabeth’s hand. Francis nodded to Ross when they were alone and remarked “She certainly is rather ravishing, that miss Knapp, but she’s too wild for me. I can see what you see in her, though.”  
“You say wild, I say fiery. I like a woman who is not afraid to fight with me.”  
“I can understand it. Just don’t lose your head for her.”  
Ross did not reply, but thought about what his cousin said as he watched Miss Knapp spin around the dance floor with her partner. She was maybe not the most graceful dancer but her clumsiness had a charm and innocence about it and her mistakes sparked carefree smiles which lit up her face. Ross knew he could easily lose his head for her if he wasn’t careful. He broke from his thoughts and turned to his brother and began speaking of their mining ventures.   
Soon enough the dance ended and the assembly clapped as the dancers returned. Olivia and Dr Enys rejoined the other Poldarks, laughing together. Mr Warleggan came to return Elizabeth to her husband and at once a frosty air came over the group, feeling the tension between the banker and the mine-owner.  
“How good of you to come Ross.” George Warleggan forced out, polite until he added, “How glad we are that you have taken time off from your philanthropy to grace us with your presence.”  
“And you, from calling in debts to host this evening. I hope you make many advantageous contacts.” Ross took a deep quaff of wine to stop himself saying more. Luckily, at that moment, the band announced the next dance so he angrily slammed his glass down on a nearby tray and gripped Miss Knapp’s hand, leading her away from the group to the furthest end of the room, only releasing her when they were in position for the dance.  
“You will forgive me, Miss Knapp. I find I cannot control myself in that man’s presence.” His appearance was stern, but Olivia was ashamed to acknowledge his sculpted face looked even more handsome because of it.   
She murmured something random in her awkwardness. His visage softened and he added quietly, “Though I must say, I am glad you are here. I find you endlessly diverting, Miss Knapp.”  
Olivia didn’t know what to make of this. As the band started up and the dance began, her mind was a storm of confusion. Why was he being so complimentary to her? She was certain she hated the man. Or at least she had done, at the start, but recent discoveries were seeming to undermine that first impression. She may have resented his interference in her business, but it was done out of concern. His superiority was not that he did not care for others, but rather a concern to do the right thing. He was was sometimes roguish and angry, but then, isn’t everyone. Moreover, his condescension, Olivia realised, was humour.  
Suddenly, shock smacked Olivia in the face. He had been flirting with her this entire time. The small smiles, the private jokes, his melting gaze, and now asking her to dance - he liked her. He was interested in her. He didn’t hate her at all.  
Now, of course, Olivia didn’t know how to behave with him. Indignant and standoffish was an attitude she could do well, but she couldn’t act the same way, having realised his attraction to her. What worried Olivia most, though, was how simple it all seemed, as she began to give in to her attraction to this man. She must have secretly liked him all along.  
The dance was a waltz, and accordingly Captain Poldark took Olivia’s waist in his arm, his strong hand powerfully holding the small of her back and pressing her chest, rapidly rising and falling with breathy excitement, against his own. She had never been in love with a man before, but Olivia had a suspicion she might soon be. Gripping this roguish, dark, mischievous man - for above all his noble qualities that’s all he was - she forgot the room around them, overwhelmed by the sound of his breath and the smell of his skin.   
They didn’t talk - Olivia thinks she’s forgotten how to - and soon, too soon, the dance is over and they let go.  
“How’s the ankle?” Poldark asked as he gently took her hand to lead her from the dance floor.  
Olivia looked up into his gleaming eyes and answered, “Serviceable, thank you. I’ll be back playing tennis in no time.”  
Poldark’s smile flashed. “I knew it wasn’t the cross stitch.” They reached the group again, and to Olivia’s dismay, he left them almost immediately to speak to Harris Pascoe, but not before he dropped a kiss on Olivia’s hand.  
Olivia did not much care for the ball now, not even for Dwight Enys’s company. She drifted around the room, paying little attention to the people she was speaking to, but noticing like a ray of sunlight Captain Poldark’s presence in every room. Her father was weary, so they left not long afterwards, he to retire to bed, she to spend a restless night dreaming of her love.


	5. An Excursion

After the crush of the ball yesterday, Olivia was glad to get outside. She kept replaying the conversations and looks exchanged between her and Poldark, construing one meaning then another in her whirling mind. She had never experienced an emotion liked it: she was longing for him. His company, his laugh, his touch, even the smell of his hair were all she could think about. She was hoping a breath of sea air and a walk with her dog Coco would wash him from her thoughts. It had to: a letter was delivered this morning to her father informing him he had secured the job at Rendcomb College, and may start within the month. She would be moving soon and might never see him again.  
Heading down to the sea edge, she looked down into the gentle swell as the tide slowly went out. The air was breezy but warm in the late morning sunshine, which made the scrubby grassland glint like emerald and the calm sea like sapphire. Olivia stood to admire the view, took a deep breath of the crisp air and exhaled with a sigh. Coco looked up at this outburst and Olivia chuckled.  
“Oh Cocey, have you ever fancied a boy before? Course you haven’t, you silly dog. If dogs like each other they simply mate and have done with it!”  
Coco obviously gave no reply and the continued walking as the cliff descended along the coast to meet a small beach. There, Olivia found a sizeable stick and threw it for her dog, who cheerfully bounded after it. Seeing nobody around, Olivia took her shoes off and ran after the dog. They played for a while, throwing the stick and running, and Olivia began to feel her tension loosen.  
“Come on then Coco! Catch this one!” Olivia lobbed the stick as far as she could along the path and turned to head back the way she had come. Galloping down the path the other way was a man on horseback so she stepped off and began waking among the taller grass to let him pass. She was watching the butterflies twirling around her and half listening to the approaching hoof beat when she noticed the sound had stopped an the horse and rider were casting shade over her. She looked up to greet the rider, though she couldn’t distinguish his face as the sun was behind his head, but recognised the long hair and the tricorn hat. All the composure and resolve which she had mustered in the last hour dissolved, as she was face to face with the object of her desire. But before she could decide how she ought to act, Coco bounded into her leg at full speed.  
As she turned to her, all at once there was an crash of sounds. A whinny of fear from the horse, who reared up in panic, then the sunlight broke into Olivia’s eyes as the rider fell with a hard thump from his position on the saddle. Coco, in the excitement, began barking for all she was worth.  
Olivia reacted fast. She ran after the horse as it attempted to escape and caught the rein. Managing to subdue him down quickly, she brought him back to the rider, who was being barked at by Coco. As Olivia approached she could see that he must have been injured in the fall, as he was lying completely still despite the barrage of noise coming from Coco. She retrieved the dog and gave her the stick to chew, and let the horse, now totally subdued, graze on the long grasses. The man had still not stood up and she went over to him.  
It was him, as she thought, lying on his side where the horse had thrown him. She knelt, and with firm resolve she mustered her little knowledge of human biology and checked to see if any of his bones were broken, gently grasping his ankles, lower legs and arms as far as she could reach them in his curled position before realising with a blush how improper it was. He still had not stirred, so she checked his heartbeat - he was alive. but was he breathing? She felt around his nostrils and mouth very stoically and ascertained that air was flowing. But she was worried that he wasn’t conscious. She leant over him, saying his name over and over again to try and wake him up. After a minute of this didn’t work, she tried slapping his cheeks gently, and when this failed and she was beginning to panic, she went down to the sea and soaked his handkerchief in the water, and came back to wring it out over his face. The shock of the cold, stinging waiter on his face brought him round almost instantly.  
As his eyes flashed open, Olivia released a sigh, and some panicked tension. “Captain Poldark! Are you alright?”  
Captain Poldark grunted as he tried stretching out his legs and arms. He gave a sharp cry of discomfort has he rolled onto his back, but nonetheless replies, “I believe so.”  
“I’m afraid my dog must have spooked your horse. She can be such a terror!”  
Ross began raising himself on is elbow, but stopped jerkily with another muffled shout. Olivia leaned over with concern and he saw her beauty in a moment of clarity. She had never been overly careful with her appearance, and that had always endeared her to Ross in comparison to the manicured Elizabeth. But this morning her cheeks were flushed and her brown eyes bright from exercise and her hair was coming loose in tendrils that framed her face charmingly. In the sunlight, she seemed to Ross to be the most beautiful in Cornwall.  
“Are you sure you’re alright? Should I fetch some help?” Her worried eyes met his, and he gave a snort of laughter and looked away, shaking his head. “What is it? What’s so funny?”  
Ross looked back to Olivia and smiled that disarming smile. “It seems as though the tables have turned. It was just amusing to think that we met as I was saving you from harm, and now it is you who is rescuing me.”  
Her bright smile and good-natured laugh were like a love-potion for Ross, who had been dreaming about little else for nights on end. “It seems like you need little rescuing, sir, if you’re able to joke with me. If you’re not severely injured, let me help you up.”  
Olivia stood and held out her hand and it was met by his, rugged and strong held up by pale and graceful. In a moment he was standing opposite her, but neither had let go of each other’s hand. Olivia felt she would need that support as her heart was pumping at the double and she felt she might faint again.  
“I am, however, in your debt for rescuing my horse and ensuring my safety.” They were standing a yard apart, gazing in each other’s eyes, unaware of their animals or their surroundings save for the sunlight dappling their hair.   
Olivia thought for a moment, then replied, “Well, I suppose there is one thing you could give me to settle your account. I should so hate for you to be in debt to any more people in this county.” She took a step closer towards him, still looking up into his eyes and noticing his heavy breathing.  
“Oh really? What would you like from me?”  
Olivia had decided to take matters into her own hands. She thought of the composure and propriety she set out this morning to master. But then again, everything she had wanted in life she had fought for and not backed down. Why not now? If she wanted Ross Poldark, why not simply take him?  
“This will do,” she whispered, muffling the last word against Ross’s lips as she reached up to kiss him. The sensation was electric, as both of them had been longing for it for weeks. Ross took a moment to react from surprise, but then dropped her hand and grabbed her to him tightly, melting her into his kiss. She reached up and took his magnificent hair in her hand as their mouths opened to each other. Olivia felt a rush of release but also her need for him rising in her. Their hands began exploring each other’s body and Ross’s mouth started tracing a line down her neck, but before they lost themselves entirely, Ross broke away.  
Olivia felt like she had gone too far and looked with worry at Ross, but he turned to his horse. The tension became almost too much for her as he led the horse away, but, to her relief, he only went as far as a fence post, to which he tied the horse’s reins. He then turned back to Olivia with a passionate look into his eyes. She felt an anxious excitement build, but when he kissed her firmly on the mouth once more, she decided to give in and to giver herself to him entirely. Taking her hand again whispered, he whispered “Let’s go,” and she nodded in agreement, and they ran down to the sand together.


	6. An Adventure

This was inevitable really, thought Olivia, waking up to the cold sea tickling her feet and the sun warming her side. The tide had come in towards the cliff underneath which they had consummated their love, leaving only a few feet of sand. She heard the sound of Coco snoozing next to her, but when she opened her eyes, instead of seeing the shaggy brown shape of her dog she saw the less hairy but more taut and sexy torso of Captain Ross Poldark. He was sitting looking out to the sea and Olivia enjoyed a few minutes of staring at the gorgeous man she had just made love to. She had to confess, he really was a beautiful specimen, and she couldn’t help congratulating herself on her achievement.  
He must have sensed her gaze on him, as he looked over to her and smiled. Gently, he leant over to slowly tuck some of her hair behind her ear. Olivia sat up with her back to the sea, and glanced over to Coco on her left. She felt slightly awkward on the surface but underneath deeply contented.  
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked.  
“A half hour at most.”  
“I feel like I have slept for a whole week, I am so peaceful.” She have a long sigh, enjoying the stillness of the empty beach and her satisfied heart.   
“Would that I were a painter and could capture you as you are now.” Ross murmured.   
Olivia gave a bittersweet smile, knowing she would soon be leaving Cornwall and Ross behind, and whispered, “And I, so you might have something to remember me by.”  
Ross’s face clouded with concern. “What do you mean? Am I never to see you again?”  
“Perhaps never. Father has this morning been informed he has a new position at a school some two hundred miles away, and we are to move there as soon as possible.”  
The concern cleared from Ross’s face and was replaced simple look of resignation and despair. When he did not say anything, Olivia disappointedly started readjusting her dress over her chest, and stood up to arrange her skirts and petticoats into their original place. Ross stood too, and soon Olivia felt his capable fingers re-lacing her dress at the back. He planted a soft kiss on her neck and murmured in her ear, “If this is the only time we are to have together, then let us use it.” Olivia felt the touch of his fingers carefully pulling the ribbons into position and slowly and sensually brushing sand away, interspersed with velvet kisses dropped along her neck and back. She didn’t want it to end, and a wicked idea came into her brain. She turned to face him, and with her mouth but inches away from his, said, “It’s no good, I am much too sandy.”  
Ross raised a cheeky eyebrow. “Is that so?”   
Olivia smiled sweetly. “You were much too thorough. I simply must get it off.”  
“Your wish is my command.” Ross’s lips landed on hers as his strong hands snaked from her waist up her back and began pulling the ribbon free once more. She wrapped her arms around his head as she kissed him in return, dropping them to her sides when he was done and letting her dress fall off her to the ground. He broke away to admire her body before unclasping the her corset, and finally pulling down her undershirt, petticoat and underwear one by one until she was totally naked in front of him. She felt carefree with his attentions and her anxieties flew away knowing how hot she was. Ross was gazing deep into her eyes in some sort of sexy stalemate, seeing who would move first.   
Suddenly Olivia grinned, and said, “Catch me if you can!” before jumping out of the pile of clothes around her feet and running the few feet into the freezing cold sea. She let out a cry at the cold, waking Coco up who came and dashed in the sea after her mistress, and they both started laughing and splashing around in the clear water which sparkled in the sun like diamond. Up to her waist, Olivia looked back to the shore and was grateful to see their small bay was secluded from view by the high cliff and cut off from the main beach at high tide, so their was no risk that her shocking impropriety might be seen. But she also saw Ross stripping his trousers off to jump in the sea after her so waded further out, turning away from his beautiful body which was beginning to make her weak at the knees once more. Coco gave up with the swimming and lolled about on the sand as Ross caught up with Olivia, and they played in the sea for a few minutes, splashing each other and laughing, perfectly happy in each other’s company.   
But before long, the cold began to get unbearable and the walked back to the shore and stood looking out to sea, drying off in the sun. Everything that had happened in the last two hours, and indeed in the past few weeks, came into Olivia’s mind as she stood there and sadness filled her at the thought of leaving this beautiful place and this even more beautiful man. She looked to him on her right, and looking at his scar, “May I write to you? From Gloucestershire?”  
Ross turned to her, and said with a tiny smile, “I should be delighted.” Olivia read the his wide, plaintive eyes and understood he was thinking the same as her, and tears started to trace down her cheeks.  
“Oh, my love,” Ross said, and folded her in his arms. Though they never discussed it, both of them dismissed the idea of Olivia staying in Cornwall and marrying him. She had no thought of going against her father’s wishes, and besides had hopes to make her own way in the world before settling down, and preferably with a man with more money to his name. Clearly it would be a long time before Ross was no longer in love with Elizabeth. Besides, this moment, together, was too perfect to be spoiled with the difficulty and bitterness that would come with a relationship, and Olivia had too much sense to think they would never argue again like they had done.   
They stood there, holding each other, naked as the day they were born, warmed in the sun and stilled by the gentle breeze. In a few minutes they would go and dress themselves again, wake up Coco, and walk through the water round the rocks to where they had met and where Ross had left his horse. They would talk like old friends and part fondly, and proceed in opposite directions to where their lives were waiting for them, perhaps never to see one another again. But for now, let them stand there, completely happy, and full of love.


End file.
